I'll Stay With You Forever
by Millenium Roger
Summary: Ater five years of happiness, Rook and Rastan finally tie the knot. But what happens when Rook is suddenly called away the night after their wedding? read, review, n find out. sequel to A Very Long Engagement
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Rook and his amigos belong to Paul Stewart & co. I think the other peeps belong to me.

A/N: This is the sequel to "A Very Long Engagement" It's kinda long but I enjoyed writing it. It might actually be one of my favorite pieces. Not that that's saying much! Happy reading!

* * *

Rook Barwater's days always started the same way. He awoke before the sun, dressed quickly in his Freeglade Lancer uniform, and jogged out three miles to the Ironwood Stands. Then he groomed and saddled up Klinchix, his prowlgrin. During the day he supervised the training of recruits, led his Lancers in forays, and went through mountains of paperwork. As soon as the sun vanished he jogged back towards the Lufwood Tower, showered before dinner, and proceeded to the dining hall to enjoy a well-earned rest with his friends.

Such was the busy life of the Captain of the Freeglade Lancers.

Rook was so busy that he sometimes wondered how Rastan felt. They had been lovers for two years before their engagement three years ago. He was now twenty-seven years old and he could see his life stretched behind him. He and Rastan had agreed when they first met that they would take their time in getting married so that they could both pursue their busy lives.

Now he felt himself change. Rook Barkwater, once one of the most restless being in the Freeglades, longed for stability. He wanted to marry Rastan and live with her forever. He wanted to spend more time with his friends Xanth, Magda, and Felix. But most of all, he wanted children.

Rook, who had once sought change in all aspects of his life, now yearned for stability.

"Hello everybody," said Rook, sitting down at the table next to Rastan. He kissed her tenderly and turned to Xanth, Magda, and Felix. They smiled back at him and resumed their conversation.

Magda and Xanth had been happily married for two years and Magda was now expecting her first child. They were both older than Rook but he couldn't help but feeling jealous of the family that they were already building.

He turned to Rastan, who was watching with a slight frown. Rook smiled and she smiled too and leaned against him. He hugged her against him, and they sat in silence, both reflecting on their own thoughts.

An hour later under the velvety darkness of the stars, Rook broached the topic with Rastan.

"Rastan…when do you want to get married?" he asked nervously.

She looked surprised for a moment and then grinned broadly. "Oh Rook!" she laughed, "I've been wanting to ask you the same question for a week!"

"Really? Well, then when!" gasped Rook, elated.

"As soon as possible, darling," said Rastan, throwing herself on him. "Whenever you want to, I'm willing. I've been ready and willing for almost a year."

"Wait," said Rook, gently disentangling himself from Rastan's hug. "There's something I have to ask you first. Would you…have children with me?"

Rastan blushed to the roots of her dark hair. "Oh, Rook," she whispered, "that would be more than I could ever hope for."

Rook, too overcome to speak, seized her and kissed her in an endless passion.


	2. Chapter 2

An enormous celebration was taking place on the lush lawn in front of the East Lake. A young man was standing awkwardly in a brand new Freeglade Lancer uniform. He was fidgety and nervous until his best man, standing behind him, placed a strong hand on his shoulder and whispered some words in his ear.

Just then, trumpets sounded and a beautiful young bride came walking up the aisle on the arm of Felix Lodd. Her hair was intricately braided and embedded with hundreds of little flowers. She was radiantly happy, her joy reflected only by that of the young man already at the altar.

As she arrived, the Lancer clutched her hand tightly. The gnokgoblin priest droned on for a long time, until finally the long awaited words were pronounced.

"Do you Rook Barkwater, and you, Rastan Thenxis, agree to take one another as lawfully wedded spouses?"

The answer came in chorus: "I do."

"Earth and Sky bless you and your marriage." Finished the priest, stepping back into the folds of the silken hanging.

Rook turned to Rastan; he could contain himself no longer. He picked her up and kissed her passionately to the wild cheers of all the assembled.

Hand in hand, the newlyweds walked down the aisle to the banquet waiting for them just over the low hill. They were followed by the congregation, a huge chattering group of Freeglade Lancers, Librarian Knights, and nurses from the Gardens of Light.

* * *

The party lasted all day and all night. As the dawn was peeking over the trees in the distance, the final goodbyes were finally said and the newlyweds could retreat to their bedroom to be alone for the first time since their marriage.

"I think this was the best day of my life," said Rook happily, flopping down on the bed, arms spread wide.

Rastan sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully undid her lace slippers. "Me too. I can't imagine ever being this happy again…or this tired." She yawned extravagantly, stretching her arms out. Flopping down on the bed, she smiled at Rook. "For some reason I don't think I'll be sleeping just yet."

Rook just laughed.

* * *

It was already evening by the time Rook and Rastan left their room, happy and well rested. They went down to dinner hand in hand and all smiles. Xanth and Magda were already waiting for them.

"So how does it feel to finally be married?" asked Xanth after the greetings had been made. "It sure took you long enough!"

"I can honestly tell you, Xanth, I have never been happier in my life. It's so nice to be _official_, you know. Plus it'll keep some of those girls from getting ideas."

"Oh? They've been after you lately?" said Xanth, leaning forward with a slight frown.

"Yup. I think they figured that if I didn't get married after three years they'd have a chance. I hope that they know they're wrong now."

"Probably."

Ther was an awkward silence. Xanth leaned back, but there was a lingering frown on his sharp face.

* * *

"So did you have a great wedding or what!" cried Magda when Rastan sat down across from her.

"Oh, it was the best day of my life. You never told me that it was this much fun to be married!" replied Rastan with a laugh.

"I couldn't explain it anyway." Magda looked closely at Rastan before whispering confidentially, "When's the first baby coming?"

"As soon as possible," said Rastan, blushing furiously.

"Good, good." Magda smiled suddenly. "I'm so happy for you! Can anything ruin tonight?"

Rastan was about to reply when a messenger suddenly came running through the doors and up to their table. He whispered a few urgent words to Xanth, Felix, and Rook, whose grave faces told everyone about the nature of the urgent news. All three of them immediately stood and walked quickly out into the balmy night air.

Magda and Rastan stood looking anxiously after their husbands as a heavy silence filled the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

"So a group of slavers swept through this village and captured every inhabitant?" said Magda incredulously the next morning when Xanth explained the circumstances surrounding the mysterious meeting.

"Yes," he answered gravely, "this fellow was the only one to escape and now he's asking the Council for help in tracking them down."

"And what did they say?" asked Rastan nervously.

"They said that they would send immediate help and deliver the rest of the village from the slavers' clutches," answered Felix. He was frowning as well, a strange expression on his perpetually cheerful face.

"Well that's great!" exclaimed Rastan. "Why do you all look so gloomy?"

"There's something fishy about that creature," replied Rook thoughtfully. "I'm not sure if we should trust him. Greasy type in purple sky pirate greatcoat…looked rather silly if you ask me."

"Pur-purple?" stammered Rastan, suddenly frightened. "He had a purple greatcoat?"

"Why, yes," said Xanth kindly. "Do you know him?"

"N-no, I just think that purple is a strange color for a sky pirate." Xanth drew back and stared at her for a moment.

"C'mon Xanth, we better get ready. I'm pushing off in an hour and I know that you're leaving thirty minutes after that to go see old Parsimmon. See you all in a few days, if all goes well."

"Wait, Rook, I have to talk to you. Come on." Perplexed, Rook stared after his wife, who was walking determinedly back towards the bedroom. He shot a puzzled look at Xanth and then shrugged and followed her into the room.

"Rook, you can't go on that expedition." Said Rastan firmly when they were alone. "I'm not going to let you."

"You don't have to get fussy now that we're married," said Rook with a grin leaning in for a kiss. Rastan put both hands on his chest and pushed him away.

"I'm not kidding. You can't go on this mission."

"I don't have a choice, dear." Said Rook, now thoroughly confused. "I'm the Captain of the Freeglade Lancers, I can't send my men and not be at their head!"

"Rook," pleaded Rastan, tears in her eyes, "don't go. Don't leave me here alone so soon after our marriage. This is a trap, I know it."

Rook looked worried. "Rastan," he took a deep breath, "Rastan, I believe you. I really do. But I have to go. The Council has reached the decision by a large majority. Xanth, Cowlquape, and I were the only ones to vote against helping these people. The last thing I want to do is leave you, even for a few hours, but I must do as I am told. Don't worry. I'll never abandon you. I'll be back very soon, love." He bent down and kissed her lovingly before grabbing his bag and walking out the door, Rastan behind him wringing her hands.

She followed him to the Ironwood stands but didn't say another word. Her eyes were dry and her fists clenched as she watched the Freeglade Lancers rally and set out, Rook Barkwater at their head.

Rastan stood there for a long time in the tall grass, her skirt clenched tightly in her fists. The wind began picking up and it grew cold. Still, she stood, immobile, until Felix cam up behind her as the sun was setting.

"Rastan, Rook wouldn't let me let you stand here all night," he said gently, draping a warm blanket over her shoulders. She remained mute, staring ahead blindly. Felix tried again: "If you're going to have a baby you must start thinking about it, and that means taking care of yourself. Now let's go in."

He urged her gently forward and this time she began to walk mechanically as though in a trance.

They walked in silence to the dining hall and sat down for dinner. Rastan hardly ate anything and refused to engage in small talk with Felix. He soon gave up and sent her to bed after only a half an hour.

Back in the room she shared with Rook, Rastan double and triple locked the door before changing into her pajamas. She lay on her bed for a long time after, staring at the ceiling and reflecting on her life. It was many hours before she fell asleep.

* * *

When she woke up, Rastan lay happily in bed for a minute, staring at the ceiling. She turned to speak to Rook and as she noticed he was not next to her all of the previous days' events came rushing back. Rook's departure, the sky pirate with the purple coat…

Rastan shivered. She had put her past behind her when she first met Rook but it seemed as though it was coming back to haunt her. The mysterious sky pirate brought back memories she never wanted to explore again.

She slipped out of bed and dressed quickly. Locking the door securely behind her, Rastan scurried down to breakfast, which she ate hurriedly, and then proceeded to the Gardens of Light where she worked as a nurse.

"We have a new patient today, Rastan," called the secretary cheerfully as Rastan walked by. "Room 213. He's got a strange skin condition that we've never seen before and we're hoping you'll know what to do."

"I'll be right there," promised Rastan. She walked down the corridor, turning down hallways until she stood before the door of room 213. Rastan bustled in fixing her notes, not paying much attention to the identity of the patient. When she looked up, the first thing she noticed was the sky pirate uniform neatly hung in the closet. The second thing she saw was a purple coat.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yep, this might be the first story ever where the baddie is named after a sandwich. Blame it on the neurons.

* * *

Rastan dropped her clipboard and backed slowly against the wall. The man on the bed was staring at her with a cruel smile playing about his thin lips.

"Well, well, well," he smirked with an evil grin, "Fancy meeting you here. I haven't seen you in ages, Rastan darling, how've you been?"

"Don't touch me," said Rastan in a firm voice that belied her shaking hands. "Don't even come near me."  
"Now how would I do that?" sneered the pirate. "I can't even move. Come over here and look at my sores, little nurse."

Rastan backed out of the room wordlessly, her eyes wide with panic. She fled from the room and ran back towards the Lufwood Tower, not stopping until she reached her room and was buried deep under the covers on her bed.

* * *

It took a long time for her to stop shaking. Why now of all times did her disastrous pass had to catch up with her? In the midst of her first true happiness the scumbags of her path returned.

She lay in the bed until the sun went down. Then she realized that she was famished. Rastan walked warily down to the Dining Hall. She seated herself at the table across from Felix and ate. Felix must have noticed that she was jumpy and pale because he suggested a peaceful walk outside.

This appealed to her tremendously and she accepted. They walked away from the well-lit dining hall and strolled about aimlessly until the noise was barely audible. Rastan looked up at the moon. It was a slim crescent and the air was balmy and warm. It was a lovers' night, but Rook was far away.

Sighing deeply, Rastan sat down in the warm grass. Felix sat down next to her. They sat in silence for a very long time.

"I'm sure he's safe," said Felix quietly after a while. Rastan nodded but then she felt her lower lip starting to tremble.

Without warning, she burst into sobs, to Felix's consternation and great discomfort.

"He's going to die!" she wailed. "They'll kill him and then Gyro'll be able to get me. Don't let him get me, not again, please!"

Felix carefully disentangled himself from the sobbing woman.

"There, there," he said soothingly, "why don't you tell me what's going on before I agree to help you."

"That sky pirate…the one that came here…I know him!" she managed to choke out when she had calmed down a bit. "His name is Gyro, he lived in the Colony with me before I came to the Freeglades. He's a bad person, the worst, and I'm sure that he's lured Rook and Xanth and the Freegladers into a trap on purpose. Rook knows it too, but he wouldn't listen to me, he wouldn't listen to his dream, and now he's gone and he'll never come back!"

Felix was stunned by these revelations. He patted Rastan on the hand rather nervously and tried to digest what he'd just learned.

"If this fellow comes after you again, Rastan, tell me and I'll take care of him," he said seriously. "This is grave news, though, that Rook is riding into a trap. We should go after him now…but the Council would never permit it. But Rastan, pick yourself up. You're not the kind of person who flinches at her own shadow. Go to bed and get some rest, we'll sort this out tomorrow, and everything'll be okay then. Got it? Now go!"

Rastan stumbled back towards the sounds of merrymaking in the dining hall, tears streaming down her cheeks. Felix stayed where he was for a little while longer, reflecting on what he had learned. He knew that he had to do something to help his friends.

The next morning, Rastan went to work with her chin held high. She received questioning looks from many of her coworkers, but no one dared to ask why she had fled the building so precipitously the day before.

Everything went well until lunch time. She tended the sick and did some laundry, always carefully avoiding room 213. Sitting down for lunch with her friends was where the trouble began.

Rastan got up halfway through the meal to get a spoon, but on her way back to her seat a strong arm grabbed her and pulled her into the shadows. She felt a hand clap across her mouth, preventing her from screaming.

"You're going to come with me and don't even think about escaping," whispered Gyro in her ear. His beard was filthy and disheveled and she could feel it tickling her neck in a most unpleasant fashion. He dragged her through a narrow door and into a dark staircase.

"Now," he said, panting slightly, "let's talk business. Where did you go all those years ago when you mysteriously vanished?"

"I was captured by slavers, there was nothing I could do…" Rastan staggered as Gyro's hand slapped her across the face, setting her off balance.

"Tell me the truth," he snarled.

"That is…" another vicious slap drove her to her knees.

"If you won't tell me the truth then maybe we can deal with things the same way as before. I bet you'd enjoy that, eh Rastan?" He dropped to his knees and began fumbling with his belt.

Rastan sobbed and tried to crawl away but her head was still swimming from the shock of the slap.

"Come here," he growled, grabbing her by the front of her dress. Several buttons popped off.

"NO!" cried Rastan, throwing herself from his grasp. "I'm married now. I've changed. Please, don't!"

"A tiger doesn't change it stripes, little one. You can't escape…" Gyro's sentence trailed off into a gurgle. Rastan stared at her hand that was still clutching the dagger she had, until now, concealed in her shoe. She didn't move for a long time.

Suddenly snapping out of her trance, she looked down and noticed she was sitting in a pool of blood. Gyro was laying across her legs, dead as a doornail. Pushing him off with a grimace, Rastan rose and walked calmly to the locker room, clutching her shredded tunic tightly to her chest. She was in a state of shock but her mind was functioning perfectly well.

"Get a prowlgrin." It was telling her "After you change these clothes. You've killed Gyro, now go and save Rook." Mechanically, she showered and dressed before heading out to the private prowlgrin corrals.

She saddled up Jonquix, her strong orange prowlgrin, and grabbed a sack of food hanging on a hook. It was, she calculated, enough to feed her and her beast for two weeks. Without a further hesitation, she galloped off into the Deepwoods.


	5. Chapter 5

Rastan rode all day and all night until her prowlgrin could take it no more. In the early hours of the morning they stopped and rested for a few hours before pursuing their relentless chase. Hour after hour Rastan bumped up and down in the saddle until she no longer felt the jostling.

It wasn't until mid-afternoon of the second day of chase that Rastan saw another intelligent being. A Freeglade Lancer was staggering about dazedly beneath her, and Rastan warily descended to inspect.

It was a young man in his teens, with grazes on his face and legs and a nasty cut on his arm. His uniform was torn and he was thoroughly dazed. Rastan quickly told him to lie down while she gave him some water to drink and prepared a salve for his arm. When he had eaten and drunk a little, she questioned him gently on the whereabouts of the rest of the Freegladers.

"We were ambushed!" he gasped, every word an effort. "There were a thousand of them and only two hundred of us…we never stood a chance. The Captain realized this and surrendered quickly but we lost so many people! I escaped from the camp where they are keeping us with the help of Rook. I was the least badly injured and he told me to go back to the Freeglades and tell the Council. I must tell the council, I must…"

"Shhh," soothed Rastan. "The camp is only seven miles away? I can make that on foot, you take the prowlgrin. We'll leave in two hours, just enough time to be rested."

The young Lancer was already asleep. Rastan only dozed lightly for a few hours. When she arose the librarian was still sleeping. She left him the prowlgrin and some the food. Rastan packed most of the food and medicine in her bag. She had a feeling she'd need it if she ever found the enemy camp and the prisoners. As the sun was setting on her second day of travel, she continued on into the Deepwoods, this time on foot.

* * *

It was past midnight before she reached the prison camp. It was a high Ironwood palisade, impossible to tear down. The top was covered in thorny vines and goobierry leaves that emitted poisonous essences when touched that made the skin swell and turn painfully red. Too much of it could kill an unsuspecting Deepwoods dweller.

Near the prison camp was a nicer set of temporary dwellings. Delicious smells were wafting over the clearing, combating the odor of rot and sickness emanating from the prison.

Rastan crept around the palisade. There was only one visible entrance and that was watched by four fully armed guards. No entrance there.

She continued her trip around the wall and then she saw it…a large tree branch hung right over the wall of the palisade! It had been knocked over by a recent storm and the tree was very unsteady, but it was no match for someone who had been raised around skyships.

Rastan nimbly climbed the branches until she found the one that would be her bridge to Rook. Holding an adjacent branch with one hand, she tiptoed across with all the grace of a gymnast. When she was well over the tall palisade she let herself drop lightly down into the prison.

She was shocked by the sight that met her hazel eyes. Even in the dark Rastan could make out bodies lying in heaps. Feeble pleas for food and water were coming from every corner of the darkness.

The shock soon passed and her nurse's instincts took over. For the next two hours she went from creature to creature, giving them food and water and healing whatever wounds she could with her medical kit.

Gnokgoblins, Lancers, slaughterers…they all faded into a blur. She had come to the camp to help Rook and now she couldn't find him.

"Thank-you so much, milady," croaked a Freeglade Lancer after she gave him a drink of water and some tilder jerky. "Is there anything an angel might need that a lowly gnokgoblin could provide?"

"Have you seen Rook Barkwater?" asked Rastan eagerly.

The Lancer's body was racked by coughs and it was a while before he was able to answer. "He was beaten nearly to death yesterday when he helped one of the kids escape. I haven't seen him since then."

Rastan's heart sank. What if he had been taken to another camp? What if he was …dead? The first peekings of the morning sun snapped her from her reverie. She realized that if she remained in her clean clothes when the sun came up she would be found out and forced back into life in the Colony.

Rastan hid what food, water, and medicine was left in the pack in a shallow hole. By the time she was finished, her fingernails were broken and bleeding and pain was shooting up her arms.

Next came the worst part. She staggered over to a pile of bodies and looked for the costume of a female Freeglade Lancer. The body was heavy and the tunic spattered with blood, but it would do. Rastan knew she should have been disgusted at what she was doing but there was something new awakening in her. It was a flame of passion, of fortitude that enabled her to go to any lengths to save those that she knew and loved.

Wrenching the uniform off the Lancer, Rastan hastily slipped it on. She dirtied herself until she felt she looked sufficiently bedraggled and miserable. No sooner was this done than the enormous gates began to open.

Rastan threw herself flat on the ground and closed her eyes, trying to look as ill as possible. She heard the guards laughing and jeering at their prisoners' misery and clenched her teeth in hate. Their heavy feet pounded to her. She heard occasional groans of pain as the soldiers kicked the wounded to make sure they weren't dead.

"What's this?" asked a nasty voice high above her head.

Rastan cracked her eyes open to see a pair of dirt-crusted boots right in front of her nose. One of them lifted up and nudged her until she rolled over with a theatric groan.

"Why looky, it's a girl-thingy. Reckon we can have a little fun?" They all chortled nastily.

"What is going on over there?" barked a gruff voice from the other side of the camp. "You had orders to find the fittest and take them to the Assembly. Why haven't you found any yet?"

"Coming, Captain," replied one of the men angrily. The group moved on to round up "the fittest ones".

It was not until the gates slammed shut that Rastan dared to raise her head ever so slightly. There were no soldiers left in the wretched prison and the guards could not see over the palisade.

Slowly, Rastan stood up and continued to help all of the injured. They were dying fast now, and she estimated that of the two hundred that had set out only about seventy-five were left in this hellhole.

She toiled under the afternoon sun until she could work no more. Crawling under a bit of shade, she fell down and slept for a few hours before her duty called her to help the people.

All who had been treated had received what she could give them but there were hardly any herbs left and the hearty Freeglade food she had brought with her was gone. Her water had long since been drunk so she had to give the poor wretches hard bread and metallic water provided by their captors.

By nightfall, some of the captives were beginning to regain consciousness permanently. They asked her whispered questions about people and places they knew and she answered as best they could.

* * *

Rastan nursed throughout the night, pausing only for a few hours to snatch some sleep. At least now she had two or three assistants helping her tend to their fellows. These were generally the ones that had suffered the least or been the healthiest before the episode. Although weak and unsteady on their legs, they provided invaluable help.

As the sun rose, Rastan made a decision. She cut off all of her long black hair and traded her woman's tunic and skirt for a man's heavy shirt and pantaloons. When all was said and done, she could pass for a man. This was vital to the next step of her plan.

When the doors opened that morning, she was sitting up against the wall, her eyes half open. The guards immediately caught sight of her.

"Got one!" cried the burly goblin who hauled her up by her hair. She winced and cried out in pain as she was thrown unceremoniously out of the camp and chained up in a line.

It didn't take long for all of the places to be filled. Rastan's heart twinged as she recognized many of her patients; creatures still unfit for hard labor.

"Get a move on you bums!" cried the slave driver at the back of the line. A whip cracked over their heads and the column began marching towards the direction he indicated. The march wasn't far but for many of the soldiers it would be fatal. Their harsh breathing echoed up and down the line before they even started and several had collapsed before they made it. These were taken and hauled bodily back to the camp. Rastan could only hope that her apprentices could deal with these new casualties.

The column was marched into an enormous building at the center of the camp. The entire settlement seemed to be crammed into it, at least a thousand warriors of all species. Their attention was focused on a distant podium at the front of the hall. As the prisoners entered, a hush fell over the crowed and all eyes turned to them. Prodded forward by the guards' spears, the small company had no choice but to walk past all the staring eyes to a large cage where they were herded in.

A hammerhead goblin with long green teeth and malicious yellow eyes walked up to the podium. He shuffled some papers, cleared his throat, and began to speak in a high, nasal voice.

"My people. You have before you fifteen creatures, armed soldiers from the Freeglades. They have willingly lifted arms against us. The choice is now before them: join us or die. Let the first prisoner come forth."

The door to the cage opened and a tusked goblin roughly grabbed the Lancer next to Rastan. He was dragged to a smaller podium and the "trial" began.

"What is your name?" asked the clerk.

"P-plurinulus," stammered the unfortunate librarian.

"Rank,"

"Private in the Green Flight of the Librarian Knights under the Professor of Darkness,"

"Do you wish to join us?"

"Never,"

"If you do not you will die,"

"Than I shall,"

"The current punishment is to be…" he searched through his papers, "…thrown into the Wig-Wig Arena of the Great Shryke Slave Market."

The librarian paled. His knees began knocking.

"Do you wish to change your answer?"

"N-no…Yes, yes, I'll join you!" he broke down into sobs. A group of low-belly goblins smugly brought out the sacred stone of their settlement. The librarian placed his right hand on the stone and raised his left hands and swore an oath, tears running down his cheeks the whole time.

When the ceremony was finished, he was guided to a seat to the right of the podiums. The clerk then turned his attention back to the cage. "Bring out the next prisoner."

This time, the enormous tusked goblin grabbed Rastan. She gasped as her hair was nearly pulled out by the roots. Rastan was dragged onto the podium and stood tall, staring out over the bloodthirsty creatures before her. She swallowed hard when she recognized a few faces that she hoped never to see again.

"What is your name?"

"R…oger. Kilogre. Roger Kilogre."

"Rank,"

"Private in the Freeglade Lancers under Rook Barkwater." Her heart twanged painfully as she spoke her husband's name. Was he even alive anymore?

"Do you wish to join us?"

"Never."

"If you do not you will die,"

"I'd rather die than serve under such scum of the Earth and Sky," said Rastan passionately. The clerk only smirked.

"_Your_ punishment," he said with the air of one relishing a terrible sentence, "will be to be dismembered by a Bloadoak after your ears, nose, and lips are cut off." Rastan's lips trembled at the thought but she held firm. A hate such as she had never known was boiling within her.

"I will not join you. Ever. I will live free or die."

The clerk merely shrugged and Rastan was hustled off the podium and into a cage to the left of the podium. As she was carried past the cage she thought she heard some applause and a few murmurs of appreciation.

The next prisoner was called to the stand. He, like Rastan, refused to join the war group. The next and the next followed this example until there were fourteen people in the cage on the left and only one on the bench at the right.

The expression on this one Lancer's face was enough to break Rastan's heart. He stared at all his comrades on the other side and then in one swift movement stood up and ran straight towards a guard. The soldier, surprised, raised his sword and the librarian impaled himself on it. His last words were shouted to the ceiling.

"Free!"

Now the atmosphere in the court was changed. The clerk looked worriedly down at his list and then back up at the crowd. Fifteen prisoners today and only one conversion, who committed suicide not long after. Making up his mind, the clerk raised both hands for peace.

"Now, the final trial of the day." An excited murmur swept through the crowd. "We will be trying our greatest prisoner. Guards, bring out…Rook Barkwater!"

The entire hall exploded into cheers and applause at the announcement. The librarians and Lancers on the bench gasped in horror. The cheering rose to a defeaning crescendo as the prisoner was escorted into the hall.

Rastan fought back tears when she saw him, being dragged along by two goblins, barely able to stand. He raised his head and she saw the innumerable scratches and bruises that continued down his chest as far as the audience could see. But in his eyes there glinted nevertheless the same will of iron that had always been present.

"What is your name?" asked the clerk with a cold smile.

"Rook Barkwater," replied Rook. His voice was not strong but it sent comfort through his troops.

"Rank?"

"Captain of the Freeglade Lancers,"

"Will you join us?"

"Never!"

"If you do not you will die,"

"I will do what I must to serve the Freeglades," replied Rook impassively, though sorrow flitted momentarily across his features. "If that includes dying now then I am proud to do my duty."

"Not only will you be killed," said the clerk in his evil whine, "You shall see every loyal member of your company killed before you."

For the first time, Rook seemed to notice the men and women standing in the cage. He quavered for a moment but the stares his camarades sent his way kept his courage.

"So be it," said Rook softly.

The clerk stared at him in disbelief. This was not what he was expecting. Damn the Freegladers and their stupid nobility.

"Executions will commence tomorrow at dawn." He said curtly. "The court is dismissed.

Rook was dragged off through a small door behind the podium. The other prisoners could dimly hear his shouts echoing down the corridor.

"Stay strong! Stay together! Don't falter!" the shout trailed off into a cry of pain and then silence.

Rastan and her friends were dragged through a different door. The cart rattled down the hallway, shaking the prisoners painfully. They finally stopped in front of a big cell and all of the prisoners were hustled into it.

* * *

They listened to the cage rattling down the hallway until it could not be heard any more. All of them stared at each other in silence for a minute until a Lancer with platinum-blonde hair broke the silence.

"Well," he said, "I guess this is it. Nothing left to do but tell each other our life stories.

"I was born in the Foundry Glades nineteen years ago…" He continued, telling about how he had lost his mother at a young age and was raised by his father. When the latter became an alcoholic the young librarian was left out on the streets. He would still be there if it hadn't been for the generosity of Captain Rook. The illustrious captain had secured him a place among the Lancers and everything had gotten better from there.

"That's why I'm here." He concluded. "When I learned that I might get a chance to be a hero, I volunteered. If I had known it would have ended this way I don't think I would have signed up so fast…anyway, enough about me. Who's next? What about you? You said your name was Roger during the trial?"

Rastan blushed furiously as everyone looked at her.

"Yeah…well…that's not really my name. See, I'm not even a Lancer really, and I…" she took a deep breath. "I'm a woman and my name is Rastan Barkwater."

There was a moment of stunned silence and suddenly everyone started talking at once. It seemed that they all wanted to know exactly how and why she had got there, so she obliged, not without some hesitation.

The silence was complete as she told her story, starting from the point where she left on prowlgrin back to go after Rook. She told about meeting the Lancer, and climbing up the palisade. There were several nods of recognition when she told how she had spent the next day and a half healing everyone she could find.

"I remember getting food and water," said one Lancer dreamily. "I thought it was an angel."

Rastan blushed and rapidly finished her tale, telling how she had cut off her hair and donned a new uniform in order to find her beloved husband. An awestruck silence greeted the end of her story.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone as brave as you," whispered one Lancer. "It will be an honor to die with you tomorrow."

"Don't talk like that," chided a Lancer, "you heard Rastan's story. Help is on its way as we speak." There was a thoughtful silence.

"Anyone want to tell another story?" suggested the blonde librarian.


	6. Chapter 6

Drums beat slowly throughout the clearing as the column of prisoners was marched towards the Deepwoods. A grandstand had been set up near an enormous bloodoak and the seats were already filled, an hour before the official execution.

In the general air of bustle and confusion as the last-minute changes were made, Rook was able to edge nearer to his men without any of his guards noticing.

"Everyone here okay?" he asked quietly.

"As good as possible considering we're all about to die," replied a gaunt Lancer.

"Come on, Frank, lift that chin up. The Freeglade forces are on their way." Rook's troubled face belied the hope and lightheartedness in his words.

"The one thing that I really would want above all else right now is to see Rastan again. Have I told you all about my wedding yet?"

"Rook." It was a whisper, barely audible.

"Yes?" he asked, scanning the prisoners in the cage for the mystery voice. "Did someone say my name? You! It was you, wasn't it lad? Wasn't it…" Rook's voice trailed off as his brain raced to process what his eyes were telling him.

"Rastan?" he mouthed, unable to speak through his consternation.

"Rook." She said simply, stepping forward.

"What…doing here…you…"

"I came to save you and the others," said Rastan with a small laugh. "Fine job I did, too. We're all going to die."

She was unable to continue because Rook had grabbed her and was kissing her fiercely through the bars of the cage. Their happiness was suddenly interrupted by an enormous goblin guard.

"Roger Kilogre," he said in his gravelly voice, "the time has come."

"The time? Roger? What is he talking about, Rastan?" cried Rook desperately, unwilling to believe the truth that was staring him in the face.

"I had to have a pseudonym for my trial," said Rastan sadly, "and since I was the first tried I am the first to be executed. Oh my love, kiss me one more time, just once for an eternity."

Rook obliged but their kiss was rudly interrupted by the goblin. "None of that, now," he said, yanking them apart. "The time has come, make your final goodbyes from here."

Rastan wished farewell to all her companions, barely holding back tears.

"This is only a temporary farewell," she said turning finally to Rook, who was beside himself with grief and despair.

"NO! RASTAN!"

Rastan kept her chin high and her eyes dry, despite Rook's broken sobbing behind her. She walked towards the center of the arena slowly and with great dignity.

"Roger Kilogre," read a skypirate in a tattered red greatcoat, "Your sentence is to be carried out at this time and place. The first punishment that you shall suffer is the severing of the ears, nose and lips. Please be seated in the chair."

Rastan did not do so immediately. She turned for a last look at Rook and then turned back to the pirate.

"May I have my last words?" she asked him icily. He nodded curtly and Rastan turned back towards the bloodthirsty crowd and her friends.

"I just wanted to ask the citizens of the place formerly known as 'WindSpinner Village' one question. Why and how could you let it get this far? Have you been inside the prison pens? It's worth than a battlefield in there. What have the Freegladers done to inspire so much fear and hatred? I ask you neighbor to neighbor, WindSpinnerite to WindSpinnerite, to stop this madness."

"How can you claim that you are a WindSpinnerite?" asked the skypirate looking at her suspiciously. "There has never been anyone called Roger Kilogre in our village."

"That's because my name is not Roger Kilogre. I am Rastan Thenxis. I was captured from the village by slavers five years ago and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. In the Freeglades I found true happiness for the first time. I'm telling you, comrades, the Freeglades are not a place of wanton destruction and hate as we had been raised to think. The Freeglades are a beacon of hope in the Deepwoods, a place where everyone can be free and ha…"

"Your last words are over," interrupted the sky pirate loudly. "Please take a seat, the execution must go on."

Rastan stood for one moment longer before finally sitting down in the hard, uncomfortable chair. A group of figures in long black cloaks and masks approached her bearing a chest which, when it was opened, revealed a great store of knives, corkscrews, and other instruments of torture. Rastan shuddered but held firm.

She closed her eyes as the executioner brought the razor-sharp knife to her face. The coldness of the steel blade seemed to numb her skin as more pressure was applied to the knife. Rastan gritted her teeth but the pain didn't come right away.

She opened her eyes. Everyone was staring towards the treeline behind her. Rastan herself could not turn to see what it was because of the knife pressed against her cheek. Her gaze turned to Rook and his men. They were staring in disbelief at something behind her.

Suddenly, the screaming began. Everyone in the audience stood up as one and began to run as fast as possible towards the town and its defenses. Even the executioner dropped all of his tools and ran. In doing so, though, the blade he was holding flew into the air and back down Rastan's cheek, leaving an enormous angry cut that was pouring out blood.

Rook and the Lancers wasted no time in getting free, but Rook was like a wild animal. He had seen the executioners run and the knife cut deep into Rastan's cheek. Even now he could see her, collapsed on the ground, her breathing irregular.

Breaking the ironwood lock with his bare hands, he leapt from the cage and sprinted towards the little bundle laying on the ground. He took her in his arms and ripped a piece of cloth from his tunic. He lovingly pressed it against the gash on her face and, lifting her up, carried her towards the trees.

Above his head, the librarians' attacks were crippling the settlement's defenses. Rook knew that just behind the treeline, hidden by the dense foliage, he would find a dozen field medics who could treat Rastan's injury.

Sure enough, as he staggered through the woods, four librarians suddenly lighted next to him and began unpacking their kits. In less than ten minutes the wound was disinfected, staunched, and stitched up.

Rook thanked the librarians profusely and then turned to his own inner struggles. Should he go back to the village and help the librarians? Or should he stay here and watch over Rastan until she awoke? Torn between his family and his career, Rook teetered on the edge of indecision for a moment before making up his mind.

"Watch her for me until I get back!" he called to the medics as he ran to the village.


	7. Chapter 7

When Rastan awoke later that evening, she was alone. The small cottage was completely deserted. Where was Rook?

She got unsteadily to her feet, ignoring the shooting pains in her face at every blink. Leaning heavily on the furniture, she hobbled to the door and looked out. The whole camp was in an uproar with librarians and Freeglade Lancers dashing back and forth everywhere.

Despite her weakness, Rastan knew where she was needed. Slowly but surely she walked along the street until she found the makeshift hospital. Grabbing some ointments, bandages, and other medical supplies, she threw herself into her work with all her heart.

Her mind was in a turmoil from the sudden change of settings. What had happened between the time she passed out and the time that she woke up was a complete mystery. She was so absorbed in trying to figure it out that she didn't realize who she was treating until she was almost done.

The face was bruised and scraped almost beyond recognition, but it was nevertheless a face that Rastan would know anywhere under any circumstances.

"Rook?" she asked as if he could hear her. "Rook, wake up. I've cooked your favorite bacon n dellberry pancakes this morning. Come on, you can eat them if you just wake up. Please?"

"Come with me, dearie," commanded a gentle yet firm voice behind her. Rastan turned to see Mother Featherflight, head nurse of all of the Freeglades behind.

"Come on," she prompted entering a cozy little room.

"Drink this," she prompted when Rastan sat down. Rastan obliged willingly; she was absolutely parched. "Did you know Captain Rook, lad?" asked the shryke when Rastan had drunk a little.

"He's my husband!" exclaimed Rastan, ignoring the pain in her cheek.

Mother Featherflight's yellow eyes widened. "Rastan? What did you do to your hair?"

"Mother Featherflight, you have to tell me how Rook is. Honestly." Said Rastan putting down her mug and staring at the bird woman.

"He's not in a good shape." Confided the shryke. "That beating he got a few days ago seems to have had some more serious effects than he thought. Not counting the concussion he suffered five years ago, his chances are pretty slim."

"But why can't we take him to the Freeglades? They can heal him, I know they can!"

"Maybe they can but transporting him in this state is out of the question. He wouldn't survive the trip. Have some more tea."

Rastan sipped the steaming beverage. She was about to open her mouth to protest, argue, plead…anything to save Rook's life, when the words caught in her throat. A sudden wave of fatigue hit her and she put her cup down. Before she could even speak, Rastan was asleep.

Mother Featherflight summoned one of her helpers to take Rastan back to her cottage. How fortunate that she always kept some sleeping powder up her sleeve!


	8. Chapter 8

When Rastan next awoke she was in unbelievable agony. Her cheek was on fire but more than that she needed to see Rook and tell him everything was alright. The nurse that came to see her later that day told her about her present situation:

"Your cut is infected. I'm on orders that you must stay in bed, lying down, until the swelling goes down lest the infection spread to the rest of your body. As for Captain Rook…still no change."

Rastan slumped deeper into her pillows, bowed down with misery.

* * *

It was two full weeks before she finally got permission to leave her bed. Her first steps, though weak and unsteady, were filled with purpose and determination as she shuffled to the intensive care hospital ward leaning heavily on the arm of one of the nurses.

When they arrived at Rook's room it was all she could do to stifle a cry. He was lying motionless, his eyes closed. Rook's face was gaunt and pale and he already looked dead.

Rastan looked at him, dry-eyed, teeth clenched. She sat in a chair near his bed and took the half-eaten bowl of broth near his bed in two hands. As a nurse, she knew that the most important thing when taking care of comatose patients was to keep them nourished and hydrated.

Taking a spoonful of the soup, she carefully lifted Rook's head and spooned it into his mouth. Most of it dribbled off to the side but some of it went down his throat. Gritting her teeth, she continued until the bowl was empty.

Satisfied that he was fed, she slumped back into the chair. The nurse, who had assisted to this spectacle with bewilderment and awe, tried to coax her out of the chair and back to her own room, but Rastan flatly refused:

"I will be here when he wakes up," she said, closing her eyes. The nurse shrugged and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.

After she left, Rastan sat in the chair, immobile, for a long time. She stared at Rook, studying his face and body. Finally, she stood up and walked over to the bed. Bending over, she stroked his hair and kissed him. He remained motionless.

Rastan hobbled around to the other side of the bed. Slipping out of her wooden clogs, she climbed into the bed and snuggled against Rook. He was cold but slowly warmed up as she hugged him.

"I'll never, ever leave you," she whispered before sleep claimed her.

* * *

When a nurse came in several hours later to check on the patients, she was awestruck. Rook Barkwater's cheeks were almost pink for the first time in three weeks.

* * *

After that night, Rastan was permanently moved into Rook's room. She became his nurse, feeding him broth five times a day, keeping him clean, and washing the sheets and the bedpan. Every night she would snatch a few hours of sleep, curled up against Rook's familiar bulk.

Rastan had been living this way for two weeks when she woke up one morning with a terrible stomach ache. Lurching out of bed, she sprinted to the bathroom and threw up.

When the nurse came in soon after, she confirmed what Rastan wanted so desperately to believe. She was finally pregnant! All she wanted to do was share the joy with Rook, but he was still deep in his coma.

That night as she fed him his last bowl of stew before she slept, Rastan whispered the words in his ear. She knew he couldn't hear her or respond to her announcement, but telling him felt so good…she fell asleep still glowing with inner joy.

* * *

When Rastan awoke the next morning it was so early that the sun had not yet peeped in through the window. It took her a moment to realize that something had changed since the night before.

She had fallen asleep with her head on Rook's shoulder. This morning her head was resting on the pillow…the realization sunk in slowly.

Rook had moved during the night! He would survive! For the first time in nearly four weeks, he had moved. Rastan was ecstatic but she kept her head.

The first thing she did was rearrange her husband on the bed. He had not moved much at all but she felt a sense of satisfaction in plumping up the pillows and straightening the sheets.

When the nurse came in, Rastan hastily told her the good news and sent her off to fetch some stew. The nurse returned a few minutes later accompanied by a gaggle of younger women all giggling madly. They all wanted to see the handsome young captain who was so highly praised in the Freeglades.

Rastan shooed them out almost kindly; under normal circumstances she'd have sent them packing with sharp words and a glare. Today, however, nothing could spoil her mood.

She carefully spooned some of the stew into Rook's mouth and was rewarded when she saw a slight movement in his throat that showed he was swallowing. Rastan felt like she could dance.

* * *

Over the next weeks, Rook gradually came out of the deep coma. It was fourteen days before he could open his eyes and a further ten before he could speak. His first words were:

"When's the baby coming?"

Rastan only laughed and hugged Rook who did his best to return the hug. The months spent motionless on the bed had severely atrophied all of his muscles and he could barely move. It would take months before he was back to his old fit shape again.

Meanwhile, Rastan's stomach was swelling. The changes were imperceptible at first but it did not dampen the young couple's spirits.

* * *

Then finally, one beautiful morning, Rook was well enough to return to the Freeglades. It had taken two months for his muscles to support his own weight. In that time, the small cottage he lived in with Rastan had become a home away from home. There were fresh herbs and flowers on the table every day and people came from all over the settlement to taste Rastan's cooking when the scent filled the clearing.

Rook and Rastan set out one May morning by prowlgrin back. They were in no rush to return to the Freeglades and it took them much longer than necessary to get there. They stopped early in the evening to set up camp and didn't leave until late the next morning.

The sun was just beginning to set when they reached the Freeglades. Unusually for the party-loving inhabitants of the Freeglades, there was no extravagant parade or feasts waiting for them.

"They must have given up when we weren't back three days ago," laughed Rook. He leaned heavily on his cane and hobbled slowly towards the Dining Hall. When he entered on Rastan's elbow, there was a moment of silence. All heads turned their way and suddenly the entire room began clapping as one.

Rastan blushed and ducked her head.

"See, Rastan, you get a hero's welcome!" whispered Rook, smiling hugely. "Go on, wave!"

Rastan gave a small, half-hearted wave and the hall erupted into fresh cheers. And then, slowly at first but then faster and faster, the librarians and Lancers began chanting her name and Rook's. Rastan ducked her head to hide her red cheeks and took a step forward, pulling Rook gently along with her.

Unlike his wife, Rook was completely at home with such greetings. He walked through the crowd greeting those he knew and asking after their health and family. As a result, the journey from the door of the hall to the table where he sat was very slow.

When they finally reached the table, Rastan breathed a sigh of relief. The clapping had subsided somewhat, but the occasional shout could still be heard.

Rook greeted Xanth, Magda, and Felix as though he hadn't seen them in years, although in reality it had only been a few days; they were frequent visitors to Rook and Rastan's home-away-from-home. Rastan greeted them with equal enthusiasm, and for a while, their food was forgotten in the flurry of greetings.

When the meal really did begin, it was constantly interrupted by random Lancers who came to their table, often to thank Rastan for her help in the prison camp or to congratulate Rook on his recovery, or to wish them both luck in their marriage and luck with their child.

* * *

"Wasn't that fun?" asked Rook later in their bedroom when he and Rastan were getting ready to get some well-deserved rest.

"I don't see how you got used to it!" cried Rastan. "That was so…extravagant! All the clapping and the cheering and the people coming in the middle of dinner…I thought I was going to lose my mind."

Rook laughed. "You think that was extravagant? You should've seen 'em after the Shryke incident seven years ago. They were groveling! Oh, that reminds me, I heard from a trustworthy source that the Council is planning a banquet for the returning heroes – me, you, and the rest of the Lancers and Librarian Knights – in just a few nights. If you think that was lavish, wait till you see a true Council banquet. You'll never want to eat again!"

Rastan laughed and snuggled in closer to Rook, who wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders. "I guess I should get used to honors now, seeing as I'm married to the most valiant Captain in all of the Freeglades."

Rook lifted her chin until she was looking straight into her eyes. "No, Rastan," he said seriously, "you should get used to honors because you deserve them. What you did in that prison camp, no one else could have done. _I_ can't imagine doing it. I can't imagine _anyone_ doing it. You, Rastan were the true hero that day. Once a hero always a hero; you better get used to honors, love!"

Rastan laughed drowsily and buried her head in his chest. The beat of his heart was steady and reassuring. Hearing it now, Rastan couldn't help but think of all those days and weeks when it hadn't been.

"Rook?" she murmured, half asleep, "Promise you'll never leave me again?"

"I promise," replied Rook softly, stroking the jagged scar on her cheek, "I'll stay with you forever."


End file.
